


Lost and Found

by faultychips



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Other, freddy + crew are there but theyre not really characters in this one lol, sort of a deviation from canon but not by much, springtrap is of course full of corpse meat so heads up for descriptions of that, there's violence but its not gore levels of graphic, two bros just chilling. one bro trying to chill while the other tries to bite his head off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faultychips/pseuds/faultychips
Summary: Decades after the horrible tragedies at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Henry Emily is returning to one of his many defunct locations to release any remnant of life still trapped in his robotic creations. This time however, he finds something left behind in the old pizzeria that, for many reasons, is much harder for him to let go of.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically my first attempt at a fanfiction SO! I hope it's not too bad haha. Please enjoy!

It was afternoon when Henry Emily arrived at that old establishment.

There wasn’t anything especially remarkable about it from the outside. Freddy Fazbear's locations tended to look the same no matter where you went; same colors, same mascot signs, same everything. But inside this one was a loose end that Henry very desperately needed to have tied. There was nothing left to do but return to it.

When he arrived, he stopped in the parking lot and stared for a while. The old building loomed over him, even in broad daylight, and memories he tried still to suppress began to emerge in his mind. He pushed them back and swallowed, still taking in the sight in front of him. Finally, he closed the car door behind him and moved around to the trunk.

When he walked up to the entrance, he took a small keychain ring out of his pocket and held it up, thumbing thoughtfully through the few items on the loop. Eventually he came to an old key branded with faded tape, and put it into the slot on the door. It turned with a satisfying click, and Henry almost smiled in spite of himself. He pulled on the door handle, but the door itself only opened a sliver of the way before stopping, apparently blocked by something. Confused, Henry walked over to a nearby window and peered inside. To his surprise, the doors had been boarded up; not from the outside, but from the inside. A feeling of dread began to rise in his stomach, but again he fought it off. It didn’t matter. He would get inside anyway; if anything malicious still lay in the shadows of the old building, he would make sure it was all burned away by the time he left. For now, though, he drew a small crowbar out of a utility belt around his waist. Before he could give himself time to regret it, he brought it down on the window in front of him. 

The glass fell away and clattered onto the floor, and Henry paused, watching for signs of movement from within, but none came. He focused back on the window, hacking away some stubborn shards in the frame. Cautiously he stepped through it, thankful for the low placement of the pane and mindful of the glass fragments in his path. Once inside, he felt nostalgia wash over him again, almost painfully. Age had seen the wallpaper start to peel away from the walls, and water spots pooled and broke up the checkered floor, but most of the pattern was intact, and glitter was still scattered across the room, sparkling gently in the daylight. 

Hesitantly he made his way across the space, and gently removed one of many pieces of yellowed paper from the opposite wall. It was a crude rendering of Freddy Fazbear himself, the carefree scribbles only a child’s drawing could display. He held it for a long moment, remembering his old office, once full of papers and crayons; enthusiastic attempts at copying his blueprints, that would be shown to him in pride. He realized he was gripping the paper so hard it wrinkled, and instantly felt regret. He smoothed it out again gently, and returned it to its place with the others. He knew it would not be spared in the building’s eventual destruction, but it must have remained there for so long; he didn’t have the heart to remove it for good. It reminded him too much of when the place had life.

Shaking himself out of the moment, he set his sights back on the door. The boards were hammered into the surrounding wall, but not very carefully. The nails were bent and misshapen, and it did not take much effort to pry them from the plaster. Carefully, he removed them and set them opposite the door, and tested the handle. The door emitted a small screech, but gave easily. Henry shut it again quickly with a small jolt of panic, as if the solemn space had been invaded by the noise. Satisfied, he turned to the halls beyond, ready to begin his real task. Again he circumvented the shards and turned on his flashlight, shining it into the dark. Henry froze. A pair of eyes stared back at him, glinting in the glare. 

After a long standstill, Henry stepped slowly to the side. The eyes did not follow him, and he breathed a quick sigh of relief. Slowly he sweeped the light around, suddenly understanding who they belonged to. The real Freddy Fazbear was now no more animated than his rudimentary depictions; his head had been ripped from his body and his parts were strewn about him unceremoniously. His gaze was vacant, seeing past Henry, eyelids raised and mouth wide, as if in surprise--or fear. As he moved the light around, he couldn’t stifle a gasp; they were all there. Foxy, Chica, and Bonnie were also torn apart and scattered across the room, staring off in different directions. Henry shuddered at the sight. It was more than a little unnerving, but all Henry felt was sorrow. _How cruel to leave them like this, helpless and decaying,_ he thought. Cautiously, he knelt before Freddy’s head, picking it up and gazing sadly into the cracked plastic irises. 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered quietly, running his thumb across the mottled fur of the animatronic’s cheek. He raised his head to look at the others, then set the Freddy head back down, closer to its body. He rose again, sweeping his light down the way to his left. A few rats skittered out of sight, but otherwise the hall was vast and empty. He glanced back at the path ahead.

There was what had once been a wall, but it had been torn away to reveal a door. Henry knew what this room was; of course he did. He was the one who issued for it to be sealed in the first place; he knew what it had been used to do, if only a little too late. He had done it in a panic, back when he only began to realize the truth, but now it gave him a very simple objective: go back to the room and destroy whatever his old partner, William Afton, left behind. It lay before him now, but the exposed area filled his heart with dread. _Something had gotten here first._ There was no doubt about it; the false wall had never been taken down before the restaurant closed for good. He approached it slowly, and noticed a pile of miscellaneous parts were gathered at the door’s base. Leaning over them cautiously, he brought an ear to the cool metal and listened.

**...**

**.....**

**........**

Nothing. No sound could be heard from the storeroom beyond. Allowing himself a quiet sigh of relief, Henry straightened back up and gripped the handle. He tried the door, and realized that the parts around it were preventing it from being opened. Metal hands and rods had gathered and pressed firmly against the frame. Struck with a new layer of unease at the situation, he slowly picked up the pieces and gently moved them aside, clearing the way so the door could now be opened wide enough to allow easy entry--and easy escape, if necessary. Satisfied, he returned his hand to the handle and gripped it firmly. Steadying himself, he took a long, deep breath, then flung the door open and practically threw himself inside.

The room was nearly pitch black, with only the beam of the flashlight and the pale reflections from outside to illuminate it. Henry kept close to the door, sweeping his light over the room’s contents. There was a couple of decommissioned arcade machines in one corner of the opposite wall, and a small table with a few cracked plastic chairs in the other. Everything looked worn and battered; all three arcade cabinet screens had been bashed through from the outside, and most of the legs of the chairs were snapped into various shorter and shorter halves, all scattered across the floor. Looking closer at one of the plastic shards, Henry could see that there were also scratches gouged into the faux-tile pattern, leaving rips and tears that showed the unyielding foundation beneath. Gulping silently, he turned to inspect the corner to his right, and nearly choked.

There, sitting against the wall, was another animatronic. The now-mottled fur of its suit had turned slightly green, and holes riddled its rabbit-like body, but it was unmistakable. It was the old Spring Bonnie suit; the same old springlock suit carried over from the Fredbear’s Diner location. Memories of singing, smiling jaws and bright plastic eyes came into his mind unbidden as he stared, but only the faintest hint of these qualities remained in the worn contraption, its irises scuffed and greyed, its grin appearing more like a tired grimace. It was a wreck, and Henry could feel the tears welling up in his eyes before he felt the distress that brought them. It had been one of his favorites; it was his first true mark of achievement, creating something truly special that exemplified the love that he poured into his work. It was his pride and joy. And then, he had lost it, along with so many other more important things--important people. It had been forgotten here, though it might as well have been anywhere, because he did not come back to look for it. It was practically forgotten in the turmoil that had become his life, and now it lay before him again, beaten and broken. Noticing the tiny tears running down his face, he lifted his free hand up to wipe them away, letting out a short huff.

Almost instantly, the eyes of the animatronic snapped open. Henry started and jerked back, trying to be still. His heart pounded in his chest as he trained the light on his creation, watching for further movement.

This time there was no doubt that these eyes were watching him back; dim light shone through the worn-out lens, piercing through him, but they peeked out from under half-closed lids. Impassively it stared at him, its empty gaze chilling the robotist to the bone. Cautiously, Henry took one step forward, then another. The animatronic raised its eyelids slightly at the movement, but remained on the floor, watching him. Soon, Henry was right in front of the creature, and he tried not to gag at the sudden smell of rot in the air. He knelt down, searching its face for something. He felt an old habit resurface as he spotted its ragged bowtie, and had to restrain himself from fixing it, in case it decided to take his fingers off. The two stared at each other for a long moment, but the thing made no response, eyes focused but still. At a loss, Henry took another deep breath, and then he spoke. 

“Hello,” he whispered softly.

At his words the ragged lids flew back with a snap, and suddenly the thing lurched forward. Henry scrambled back as it hit the floor, flailing and clawing at the ground in front of it. Henry pinned himself against the wall and glanced at the door, uncertain if he should run for it. The creature still writhed viciously on the floor, and began to gasp and moan, turning its head to fix its eyes on the man once more, now burning with a new light. He began to inch for the door, and arriving at it, seized the handle and prepared to hurl it open.

_“Hen….ryyy……”_

The man stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned back to the animatronic, shock creeping into his heart. The animatronic had stopped twitching, now lying pathetically on the floor. It was gazing up at him, and when their eyes met, it almost seemed to smile. 

Henry tried desperately not to be sick. 

_“Hen...rryy…...hennn….rryyyy….”_ it groaned, choking out the syllables with considerable effort. It dragged itself towards him, uttering what might have been an attempt at a laugh. Henry backed into the opposite corner of the room, keeping his distance, but the haggard rabbit continued to scrape across the ground, grinning almost gleefully as it inched closer. Henry felt barely conscious, his mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, struggling to breathe as his throat tightened. Now it was him who could not form the words, but as he was backed between the arcade machines, he grasped at them in horrible desperation.

 _“Will?”_ he gasped finally, more of a choke than a question, and the creature froze. It was still for a moment, then suddenly it was snapping itself upwards, pulling itself to its feet, drawing itself up to its full height. It now towered over him, but it did not lunge; instead, it considered him silently. It seemed to ponder the name, and Henry wondered if he was imagining the soft sound of whirs and clicks from inside the dirty suit. It brought up a battered hand, and Henry flinched, but it only held it out in front of itself, curling and uncurling its fingers slowly in thought. It then tilted its head towards him at a painful angle, considering him in the same thoughtful way. 

Suddenly, without warning, it lashed out, seizing the other by the throat. Henry could only manage a small noise of alarm before the pressure made it impossible to speak. He looked to the creature, wide-eyed with alarm, but it only stared back, burning its eyes into him while the metal dug into his flesh. It began to laugh, a pained, forced cackle, and leaned in closer, only stopping with its rotten plastic nose inches from Henry’s. Its breath, if it could be considered breathing, was hot and shaky, and it began to open its large, ragged maw.

In one quick, decisive motion, Henry yanked the crowbar out of his belt and bashed the animatronic’s jaw from underneath, slamming it shut with a _BANG_. Caught off-guard, the thing stumbled back, and the man took the opportunity to take a device out of his pocket and thrust it into the chest cavity of the creature. With a snap the taser crackled alive, and the creature jolted, arms outstretched in a final fearful gesture before it came to a stop. It fell, crashing to the floor, inanimate again.

Henry stood there for a while, leaning on the wall, gasping for air in the dark. Finally, with one last heaving sigh, he got to work.

  
  



End file.
